Rain Stomping
by Clearly Odd
Summary: The thing about arguing with your best friend is that they know exactly where to hit you to make it hurt the most. Dave/John, sort of pre-slash. Oneshot.


"Dave- Dave, _wait_-"

Dave didn't hear the rest of John's call, if there was any more to be heard. He was already slamming past the glass door that led out of his monolithic apartment building and stomping out into the rain. He had almost cleared the shadow of the building before he could hear a second set of shoes slapping the wet pavement. "_Dave!_ Jesus, wait a minute!" John shouted breathlessly across the expanse of sidewalk.

The blonde didn't turn back, but he didn't keep walking. He stood in the rain, hunched and tense, listening to the spatter of dropping water and John's heavy breathing. He never did get his air back as easily after the game. Talk about irony.

One car drove by, splashing the already damp figures, but no people vied for space on the sidewalk. Most everyone was sane enough to stay out of the downpour. Finally, Dave couldn't take the silence. He could never take the silence. Had to fill it with beats and words and noise, noise, noise, lest he hear the telltale sound of time slipping past his ears again. "You gonna apologize, Egbert, or are we standing around for nothing?"

"Apologize? Apologize for _what_?" John asked, incredulous with a side of irritated, "For being honest? For answering a question that _you _asked? Or, what, for daring to suggest that you could maybe use a little improvement in some areas?"

"Well, that's a damn funny paraphrase. Maybe you could apologize for basically faking being my friend all these years." Dave finally turned and his words, smooth as ever, fell like lead on the concrete.

"_What?_ Oh my god, Dave, stop being so dramatic! I am your friend! I'm your _best_ friend." John paused and scowled, "Dave, I'm your _only friend_."

"Fuck off, you are not my only goddamned friend. I've got plenty of friends. _All_ the friends, even. Friends out the proverbial fucking wazoo." Still not shouting, not quite, but Dave's hands were waving in the wind like he was trying to conjure some people up just to spite John.

"Who are you even talking about? Those people you sit with at lunch sometimes? The people in your classes you _sometimes_ talk to, but don't even know their _names_?" John demanded answers and the rain fell harder. They both knew he had nothing to do with the weather, not anymore, but sometimes it seemed…

Dave shrugged.

"Oh, okay, sure. They're definitely your friends. They are and I'm not." John nodded, throwing his hands up, "Because they were definitely at the hospital a few months ago when you had to get stitches. But I wasn't there, nope. And they were totally at your 18th birthday party before that! But I was not there and I did not bring you a great gift. Oh, and it must have been _all of them_ who moved _thousands of miles_ just to be with you in this stupid state, not me! Because of course _they_ knew something was wrong when you stopped talking and I had no fucking idea!"

"There's a difference, Egbert. There is a fucking difference between someone you're friends with just for the hell of it and someone you're stuck with because of a stupid decision you made when you were 13." Dave growled in return, "But you still seem to have trouble wrapping your head around that."

John faltered. He almost took a step back. His fists clenched and he stood his ground, instead. "So that's it. You're just stuck with me, huh? But since you have all those other people to care about you, you can just… drop me when I say I'd like it if you would just be yourself!" He can't keep his voice from rising in anger again.

"I _am_ myself. I've always _been_ myself. Christ, Egbert, I don't know who you thought you were friends with, but it sure as fuck wasn't me!" Dave is even less successful in his attempts to keep his voice level.

The other boy didn't have anything to say to that. For a moment, Dave's words sat heavy and hard on the ground before being washed away with steady shush of the rain. The blonde moved one foot to turn away, this sneaker squeaking on the damp sidewalk, but John's voice stopped him. "Dave Strider." He said, a hair too uneven to be called clearly, "That's who I thought I was friends with. He's a weird guy, who's into preserved dead things and swords but actually isn't a creep. He's a good rapper and a great DJ and is super funny and has a pretty nice laugh and he'll do weird, sweet stuff for you if he thinks he can get away with it. Sometimes he thinks he's too wrapped up in himself, but he's not really."

Dear god, were those tears welling up behind his shades? Just another grand reason never to remove them, Dave is sure, even if they were a gift from John. He's proud that, when he speaks, his voice is a good deal more even than the brunet boy's. "Well that guy sounds like a real peach. Why don't you go find him and leave me the fuck alone."

"Dave!" John is reaching his breaking point, "For the love of- _why can't you just be yourself?_"

Dave has reached his. "And what? Be like _you?_" The word comes out so harshly and Dave can't stop it. He can't stop any of it. "Be like you and have no connections outside, me, Rose, Jade, and your fucking _Dad_? And you think _I'm_ pathetic with my handful of acquaintances, but no one even _likes_ you! You mumble and twitch when there's thunderstorms and you talk about weird, outdated shit that nobody gets! And you don't even realize they all laugh at you, at how excited you get about all your sad little hobbies. You think _I'm_ sad, but _holy shit_, you take the Crocker Cake, pal. You just don't get it!"

He didn't get it because Dave worked so hard to keep it from him. Dave worked hard to push it all down and wave it away from John like a foul cloud that surrounded the boy. He pushed it away and piled it all up, apparently so he could whip it out and slap John with it when the boy least suspected it.

And if Dave thought the tears welling up in his eyes were bad, it was only because he hadn't gotten a load of the ones sliding out of John's and mixing with the rain on his face. And things just stayed that way. They didn't seem to move for an incalculable amount of time. They both knew Dave had nothing to do with time, not anymore, but sometimes it seemed…

"You're right. Right about everything, Dave. And you really do just look out for yourself, don't you?" John's voice is too quiet, Dave could never take the quiet, "Some fucking knight you turned out to be."

Then he was gone. Dave blinked and the boy with sopping black hair and rain-streaked glasses disappeared, like he hadn't been real the whole time. But that, of course, was bullshit. He was very real and had very much been there and his last statement was still very much stinging at the back of Dave's throat.

Without anything else to do, Dave took a walk. He took a walk in his thin red jacket, because holy hell, who expected this much rain in Texas? But it only seemed to be getting worse and Dave could remember the weather man rambling on about thunderstorms and hail and that, at least, seemed a little more par for the course. But Dave didn't hurry his pace. He walked and listened to the thunder get louder and watched the sky get darker and walked until he was sure he'd circled his block at least twice.

Finally, soaked to the bone, he wrenched the apartment door open and stalked up the stairs, taking care to stomp on every one, taking care to occasionally punch the banister, taking care to get the last of his aggressive energy out, because he really expected John to be up in the apartment, angry and waiting for an apology and that he was surely owed. Dave treated the door leading to his and Bro's apartment with a little more care than the one downstairs and began to toe his shoes off.

Bro chose that moment to appear. "You two kiss and make up?" He asked casually, as though he didn't care in the slightest, though Dave knew that if Bro didn't care in the slightest, he wouldn't even be there.

"What, you mean he's not up here, bitching to you about the whole thing?" Dave asked, sullen and surprised.

"Nah. Hasn't been here since he ran out after your sorry ass." Bro quirked an eyebrow over his pointed shades. "You don't know where he is?"

Dave shrugged. "Probably just went home." He was already slipping his soaked and uncomfortable sneakers back on.

"Better hurry, weather's getting worse." Bro reminded him as he opened the door to step the other way through it.

"Real helpful, man, thanks a bunch." Dave knew he couldn't always depend on Bro. He couldn't count on someone always being there to bail him out.

At the same time, he knew that if he didn't give Bro a status report in a timely manner, the man would be out driving the streets and looking for both his _and_ John's sorry asses.

The first place Dave headed was John's house. Just a couple blocks from the apartment there were some cramped city houses that at least hadn't failed Mr. Egbert's thorough inspection and he and John had settled into one in no time. A knock on the door revealed that, not only was John not there, but Dad had no idea anything was even wrong. John hadn't even been home. "If he's out there in this weather, I should really be looking for him." Dad insisted, already making a grab for his coat.

"No, it's fine. Really. I've got this. I-" Dave faltered for just a moment, "I'll bring him back. Promise."

The blonde got the feeling that, had it been anyone else offering to go out and search for his son, Dad would've put up more of a fight. But it was not anyone else and Dad sighed and took his pipe from between his teeth and pointed it at Dave. "You be sure to."

"Yes, sir," Dave never called anyone 'sir' unironically, but Mr. Egbert seemed to pull the word right out of his mouth.

"You'd better hurry, the storm is coming on fast!" Said Dad as Dave took off briskly down the sidewalk. Dave waved his warning off. As if the driving rain and rushing wind weren't indicators enough.

He turned the corner at the end of the block and met a street of shops, all deserted due to the weather. He followed the street down to more cramped apartment buildings. He pounded pavement long past wet and watched a half-drowned cat dash out of an alleyway. He could not find John.

He may have promised to bring his friend home, but he honestly didn't know where to start. The weather was reaching a point which Dave felt safe calling 'horrible' and his best friend was likely out in it somewhere.

"I am… John Egbert," Dave muttered to himself, looking left and right at a street corner and hanging right, "I am John Egbert, I am angry with my best friend… the guy I thought was my best friend… the guy who pretty much just said he hated me- which I don't-" Dave broke off and shook his head, returned to his muttering, "I am John and I am angry and I don't know where to go and the weather is fucking terrible…" A gust of wind blasted the blonde's face for the acknowledgement, "I am John and I have some weird kind of asthma and I need Dave to look after me because if he doesn't, I land myself ass-first in trouble and…"

Before Dave could talk himself into any more of an anxious state, a hurricane of black hair topping what looked like a person caught his eye, huddled on a bench just up the street. He barely even glanced at the green t-shirt to confirm what he was certain of. "John!" He called against the wind.

Two eyes appeared somewhere in the mess of hair and met Dave's, pairs of eyewear long since folded away in their useless, rain-smattered state. The eyes and the face that went with it turned away as their owner leapt off the bench. "John, get back here." Dave ordered even as he was running towards the boy.

He'd always had a speed advantage on John and he caught up as though the distance between them just ceased to exist. "John-" He reached out and gripped his friend's arm.

"Go away, Dave!" John wrenched his arm and paused to breathe.

"Shit, where's your- the thing?" Dave asked, reaching for John's hand. Why couldn't he remember what it was called? It wasn't as though John hadn't told him several times.

"I'm fine… just the weather. And it's you…" Heavy breathing was bad, always bad.

The wind was stealing John's breath away before he could even take it in, but didn't it understand that John didn't belong to it anymore? Didn't it understand, it couldn't have John, John belonged to Dave, John was Dave's and… damnit. "Where is your thing?" Dave demanded this time, clutching John's hand in one of his and using the other to mime the action of the device he was after.

"In my jacket… at your house." John informed him breathlessly.

"Shit. There's one at your house, though!" Shouting was a default now, as the wind roared in their ears and whipped at their bodies and kept everyone with sense out of the moment.

John only nodded and followed as Dave dragged him back along the streets by the hand. It didn't seem as long of a walk back to John's squished urban home; it had taken Dave ages to find John, but only moments to bring him back. The door was unlocked and the blonde scaled the steps in double time to open it and lead John in, lead him to the chair in the cramped entry and sit him down. "The table," John pointed helpfully at the small table at the other end of the entryway.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. You're okay, you're going to be okay, you're alright, it's alright," Dave babbled and yanked open the single drawer to reveal- John's inhaler.

God, that's what it was called.

He snatched the item and carried it back to John, forcing it into the brunet's hand. John would sometimes refuse to use the thing anyway, indignantly huffing and puffing that he used to be a wind god, _damn it_, but he brought it to his lips without a fight. Dave felt he could breathe easier when John finally did. "Okay? Okay, okay, it's okay, you're okay, you're alright," Dave babbled on, quieter and reassuring, unsure who was meant to be reassured.

The blonde brought one hand up, cupped John's jaw and ran his thumb along the soaked skin of the boy's cheekbone. Then John pushed him away. "Not alright. Go away, Dave."

"No." The answer was immediate.

"Now isn't the time for your stubborn crap! I don't want to see you anymore." The medication made John shiver, but his shove as he stood up was firm.

"I'm not going anywhere," John tried again, "John-" Dave reached up and caught his friend's shaking wrists, "Fuck, stop it! I'm sorry!"

All the fight in the other boy went out. He flopped back down in the chair like a boneless doll, and when Dave released his wrists, he let his arms just fall into his lap. "I'm sorry." Dave repeated.

There was silence. Dave knelt down on the puddled floor in front of John's chair and waited. He hated the silence, but he waited.

There was more water on John's face. He sniffed. "I-Is it true?"

"Of course it's true, I told you. I'm sorry." The words didn't come any easier, no matter how many times Dave had said them.

"No. The other things… you said." John leveled his bloodshot eyes at Dave, blue and red.

For once, the other boy couldn't think of a reply.

"Because, if it's true. Then you don't have to be sorry. Don't be sorry for telling the truth." He sounded like an empty echo of his words to Dave in the rain-soaked street not long ago. "In fact, if it's true, if you think you're just stuck with me, then go. I'm unstucking you, you're free. Just go, Dave!"

That could have been it. Dave could have left. He could have come back later when John was more reasonable and they were both less damp and shaken, but that still would have been it. That could have been the end of them.

"I don't want to go. Alright, Egbert?" The addressed boy looked away, "I'm sorry, John. I'm sorry for saying all that shit, I worked so _fucking_ hard to keep it from you," John sniffled. Dave had seen John cry only once before and the idea that he was this upset- over Dave, over what Dave had said- was a heady one.

"So… what? I'm just a big joke to all the people at school? That weird kid you hang out with?" He sounds lost now, and Dave really isn't sure how to bring him back to where he belongs. "No one likes me at all?"

"Fuck them, _I_ like you. I like you a lot. Probably more than I should." Dave reached out for John's hand, but the dark haired boy snatched it away. "Hell, I probably love you. I'm uncomfortable amounts of attached to you."

John's eyebrows drew downwards as he steadfastly refused to look at Dave. "I'm so angry at you." He muttered.

"I can wait, then." Dave replied.

John didn't say anything.

So Dave sat down in puddles of murky rain water, letting them seep into his already wet jeans, and he waited.

-/-/-

Author's Note: I'm… not sure about this. I really enjoyed writing it, though. It's probably one of the most self-indulgent pieces I've done in a while. Hope some of you guys got a kick out of it, too!


End file.
